Boston's Jewish community had its fair share of wagging tongues.
But even the shy widow Mrs. Finklestein was wide-eyed and tongue-tied to hear the scandalous news: Ruth Shapiro of the local diner had proposed marriage to Donny Donowitz from the barbershop.
The nerve of that girl! How dare she make such a blatant statement! Nobody did anything without asking Mrs. Goldstein, the local matchmaker, for advice on such delicate personal matters. No eligible young woman would violate social protocol unless she was off her rocker. And Ruth Shapiro had just opted to make her own match as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"Such chutzpah!" chattered Mrs. Bergman over afternoon tea. "What does Shapiro's girl think she's doing?"
She and her companions were sitting around a table in the back of the diner and knitting to their hearts' content. Between wagging tongues and flickering needles, at least four pairs of socks were finished and five people slandered.
"Donny Donowitz of all people," Mrs. Klein added with a heavy sigh. "You think a girl like Ruth could do better. She's got a good head on her shoulders. A pity her father can't afford to send her to college….." her voice trailed off.
"She'll be getting more than she can handle with that wild temper of his," warned Mrs. Bergman. Everyone clucked their tongues and nodded their heads in agreement.
"Surely he's not that bad," Mrs. Finkelstein suddenly piped up in her timid gentle voice.
Everyone starred so hard at the widow that she almost retreated back into her knitting with permanent silence. But with surprising resolution, Mrs. Finkelstein managed to clear her throat and continue speaking.
"Sy Donowitz always had a stubborn streak in the family but he's never had to tell his boys twice to respect their elders," she pointed out. "And each family runs an honest business. Those level-headed Shapiros are always careful about the friends they're acquainted with."
"Still think Ruth's being level-headed?" Mrs. Bergman shot at her fellow knitter.
The tone which she used caused Mrs. Finkelstein to shrug her shoulders meekly. "The match could balance out their personalities. And besides," she added in a much softer tone. "A girl like Ruth would be safe having a big fellow like Donny close by."
"Safe? How could any girl be safe around rogue? "Mrs. Bergman demanded.
"Safer than Europe, that's for certain."
The ladies fell silent while their minds retreated back to the latest radio news about Germany's latest chancellor and his radical ideas to rebuild the country...including unpleasant comments regarding the Hebrew race. These were negative but valid facts that would eventually shake history to the ground but for now, they had no idea how a handful of people were going to change mankind for better or for worse.
Mrs. Klein decided to get back on the subject. "I suppose all things well aside, we've seen Donny walk out of those fist fights and grinning like a cat. Always using his hands instead of his head ever since he was seven years old! Now he's become that big lumbering giant so Ruth had better stay on her toes. Goodness knows if he'll give her a black eye on their wedding night but I'll bet my money on—"
"Bluma, please," Mrs. Finkelstein protested.
"—because he won't come home to her. Oh no, Mister Big Shot has to pull his pants down for a gentile girl—now now Mrs. Finkelstein, I didn't have to see it with my own eyes to know it was true. What else was that nudnick of a Donowitz doing near Johnsons with a shikse last month? Huh! A good thing my cousin Shusterman saw them together in the alleyway. Why Ruth Shapiro thinks she can turn Donny Donowitz into even half of a decent fellow is beyond my..."
WHAM!
A heavy wooden bowl slammed so hard against the counter that it nearly cracked in half. Everyone realized that Ruth Shapiro was standing behind the chrome counter. The uneasy silence spoke volumes when hazel eyes starred defiantly back at the ladies.
As usual her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows for an afternoon of kitchen patrol duty. But now Ruth's knuckles gripped the bowl tightly and the muscles in her cheeks tightened with silent anger.
"Enough," Ruth demanded in a cool curt voice. It was the trademark tone of an annoyed Shapiro who strained for self-control before exploding into someone's face.
"Enough," she repeated with a sharp swap of one hand. "Donny and I are going to be married in two months and that's that. I'm not asking for your blessings or even your advice. But you'd better leave your gossip outside or else you won't get even get so much as a single cup of tea from this diner ever again!"
Ruth ended her little speech by sealing her lips, whirling on heel, and marching back into the kitchen..
With subdued expressions and sheepish looks, the women hastily gathered up their knitting bags and tried to leave Shapiro's Diner as quietly as possible. Only Mrs. Finkelstein smiled approvingly to herself and thought, "Well done, Ruth."
A-A-A
Ruth Shapiro and Leah Cohen were sitting on high-legged stools slicing up strawberries. Welding a sharp knife was oddly satisfying and almost cathartic to Ruth's temper as she worked and confided to her best friend.
"I could just spit," she said at last. "Listening to them talk like that."
"They got you that bad, eh Ruthie?" Leah asked.
Ruth responded with a Yiddish cuss word while Leah giggled.
Leah Cohen was a tall lanky woman with a snub nose, slender piano-playing fingers, and wavy locks of black hair. She was a head-and-a-half taller than Ruth and had her heart set on attending medical school in Stamford.
If Ruth's scandalous action of proposal had set Boston gossip aflame then Leah had gleefully poured gasoline onto the fire by telling everyone she wouldn't consider marriage until she was a certified nurse from the state of Connecticut.
"How are your parents handling the truth about college?"Ruth asked her friend.
"Better than I thought," Leah assured her. "Dad's a bit up in arms but thank goodness, Momma isn't just ready to give me up just yet. She's glad to know to know nursing school will keep me busy for at least a year or two. And I'll be just a train ride away from home on the weekends."
Leah cocked her head to one side. "What about you, Ruthie? Still gung-ho about doing 'it' with Donny Donowitz as I am about medical school?"
"Yes." Ruth wiped her red-stained hands on her apron. "No matter what those ladies say I'm going to make this match work if it's the last sane thing I do on the face of God's earth."
"I don't think it'll be the last one you do," Leah smiled. "People don't want to admit it out loud but they're glad you picked a Boston boy instead of some out-of-town big shot They're just surprised because you've never shown an interest in Donny Donowitz before."
"Haven't I?" Ruth asked lightly.
Her tone surprised Leah. Shapiros weren't as outgoing or boisterous as Donowitzs; they always came across as the sensible "mind-your-manners" sort of people. But now and then you never know...
Ruth kept talking while she got out the sugar jar. "Remember years ago when Donny and his friends were just kids and had released Mr. Saltz's chickens out of the coops? The man was furious! He chased them around the block all afternoon."
"I remember!" Leah laughed aloud. "Those poor chickens! All twelve of them flapping and pecking about while Staltz went after the boys with a broomstick. He said he'd beat their hides into horse meat." She popped a strawberry in her mouth.
"I also know everyone was sent over to Rabbi Markus' office for a stern lecture," Ruth said as she scooped out some sugar. "Saltz wanted to beat them senseless but Rabbi Markus convinced him to make the boys pay back by doing jobs around the neighborhood."
"So that's the boys are always building the sukkah in the courtyard ever year?"
Ruth nodded. "Rabbi Markus said they kept coming back to ask for more nails and lumber to fix things. Now it's practically tradition. Every autumn, Howard and Donny get all the young men to build the sukkah and then come to the diner for a supper."
"Aha! The sight of Donowitz Junior in his shirtsleeves and rippling biceps must have won you over," Leah concluded merrily.
"As if that would suffice a Shapiro!" was Ruth's counter-remark. "The man's got a mouth faster than the Galena railroad train and a temper like a boiler room. But he's rock solid, loves this community, and doesn't set foot in a gambling house. I know my priorities and realized there wasn't anything else to do but pop the question."
Leah got on a stool and dramatically clapped her hands. "Bravo, Ms. Shapiro! Well done. I'm sure the critics will call it a hit."
"Very funny." Ruth tugged on Leah's dress to bring her back down to reality.
"And what about Mrs. Klein's gossip about Donny and that girl?" Leah asked.
Ruth's eyes widened. "Tsk! Must be a rumor," she insisted. "I can't take every one of Mrs. Klein's words to heart."
"Innocent until proven guilty?" Leah crooked a finger at her. "You're sweet to give him an easy pass. I mean for all the tricks and troubles he's gotten into, Donny's always been easy on the eyes ever since he was fourteen. I wouldn't blame a 'glamor' girl for trying to get to know him better."
"A rumor," Ruth insisted. She tried to keep her expression calm despite her inner curiosity to know the truth behind the vague story.
"And as likely as..."
"As likely as Mrs. Goldstein and Mrs. Klein taking permanent vows of silence?" Leah suggested. The two of them grinned in agreement.
A sharp knock came at the back door. Leah quickly turned around so Donny wouldn't be able to tell her to wipe that smug smile off her face. he door swung open and the legendary (if not scandalous) bat-swinger of the East Side walked in.
Donny's hair was combed and his shirt was tucked in for a change. But his brooding expression was a cross between aggravation and punctured ego. Nothing else could make Donny's brow scrunch up like that except for the news of his beloved Red Sox suffering a slaughtering defeat on the baseball field—or the ongoing unappreciated comments about his commitment to Ruth.
They got him all wrong. Donny wasn't discouraged about tying the knot with Ms. Shapiro. It was the constant prattling noise from everyone else's mouths' that he found—to put it bluntly—fucking annoying.
He nearly thrust what he was carrying at Ruth with such disdain that Leah could only shake her head in disbelief. "How humiliating for Mr. Hotshot Donowitz," she gloated inwardly. "Finally getting himself tied to Ruth's apron strings."
Ruth, on the other hand, had gratefully taken the flowers out of Donny's hands. "Thank you, Donny. That's sweet of you."
He shrugged an began rambling on in his usual manner. "Figured you'd like somethin' nicer than those frilly puff-puffs at the corner store. Ma had a few growing in the garden box and said I'd better bring some over. Y'know," he inclined his head closer. "Since you're head-over-heels for this marriage business I figured I'd better do somethin' right."
"Tell your mother they're lovely," she smiled in relief. She placed the violets in an empty glass jug and began to fill it with water from the tap. "By the way, my father wants to talk to you this afternoon."
"About what?" he demanded.
It was Ruth's turn to shrug. "He didn't say."
Out of the corner of his eye, Donny noticed Leah Cohen pretending to look busy. A mere inch of adjusting her head revealed a wide silly grin and shoulders that trembled from stifled laughter. It was clear that she was enjoying the spectacle.
"Don't you have somethin' better to do than be starrin' at me?" he snapped at her. "Can't wait 'til you get off to that damn school of yours and learn how to stick knives into people. Say hi to your quack-job of a doc for me too."
And with that he turned on heel and went out the door, making it slam noisily as he had done a hundred times before.
A-A-A
Up until now the three Shapiro boys had no qualms with the Donowitz family.
Benny, Max, and Joshua weren't especially good friends with Donny but he could count of them if a 9th player was needed on the baseball team. And Sy's shop was a good place for a faithful customer to walk on in for some easy conversation. Over the years there had been polite mutual nods when crossing the street or going into the diner.
But now Donny could feel the three Shapiros glaring at him when he walked through the front door of their house. Never mind that he was at least 40 pounds heavier than each of them and could take on all three brothers at once. He was marrying their only sister, goddamnit! The Shapiros weren't going to just let Donny Donowitz, or any schmuck for that matter, get their legs around Ruth so easily.
"Dad's waiting for you in the parlor." Max jerked behind his shoulder with a thumb.
"Thanks." Donny walked past Max towards the back room, all the while feeling the heat of their wrath seeping out of their heads. He wasn't scared but their lack of civility grated Donny's nerves. It wasn't as if he had started this whole thing!
A crocheted afghan lay on the back of one chair where Mr. Shapiro was sitting. He looked up when he saw the tall figure of Donny in the doorway and rose from his seat.
"You're looking well," Mr. Shapiro said while offering a hand to Donny. "Baseball keeping you busy?"
"Busy enough," Donny replied. He accepted the smaller hand that had a firm but brief grip on his handshake. Mr. Shapiro was usually a good-natured man with a cheerful greeting for every diner customer. But with a particularly delicate situation like this one on his hands, not even Donny knew what Mr. Shapiro could be planning.
Mr. Shapiro turned around to the three young men who still stood in the doorway and were eyeing Donny the way vultures might eye a fresh carcass of dead meat. "Joshua, would you mind bringing out some seltzer from the ice box? I'd like to speak to Donny alone."
One by one the boys walked off. Donny waited two long tense minutes until Joshua finally returned with a full try and placed it ceremoniously on the little coffee table. The water droplets on the chilled seltzer bottles, the shiny glass cups, and the square bottle of amber-colored liquid could only be some part of this bizarre ritual that had set Donny far outside of his comfort zone.
"Now then," Mr. Shapiro said as he reached for the seltzer. "I understand you've accepted Ruth's proposal to marry you."
The words leaped out of Donny's mouth before he could catch himself. "Well, fuck yes," he retorted. "Why else is everyone mouthin' up and down the town as if it's their damn business what I do?"
Shit and double shit, he fumed inwardly. Way to go, Donowitz. Impress the in-laws with your cussin' mouth. Great way to get Max-asshole and his schemers breathin' down your neck again.
If Mr. Shapiro was slighted by Donny's natural habit of swearing then he didn't show it in the least. He simply picked up the bottle. "Scotch?"
"Sure." Donny could already feel the knots in his muscles unwind slightly from the offer.
Shapiro added one-third scotch to the seltzer mixture, dropped in a few ice cubes, and stirred it with a long silver spoon before handing it to Donny. One thing you had to admit about Shapiro and that is how well he could make a good drink. Donny gulped down two mouthfuls of Scotch and seltzer, savoring the burning sensation that shot down his throat and filled his stomach with fire power.
"Don't mind my boys acting like mules," Shapiro assured Donny while he fixed another drink for himself. "They've been rude ever since Ruth told them the news. Joshua even tried to talk her out of it."
Shapiro's frankness was taking the edge off Donny. And the Scotch was pure gold and heat on his tongue. He let another mouthful of alcohol roll around in his mouth before swallowing it down.
"They hate me that much, huh?" Donny sucked on an ice cube before crunching it with his back teeth.
"It's not what you think it is. We've all become a bit dependent on Ruth...too dependent since my wife passed away, I suppose. It must be difficult being the only girl in a houseful of boys so I've got to make sure Ruth can have a life of her own."
Shapiro sipped his drink thoughtfully for a moment before he went on. "Frankly, I figure my girl could do better with a local boy than one of those big-headed ruffians from another city. If she marries you then at least I can watch your back".
Donny would have thrown Shapiro one of his confident trademark grins had Shapiro not pointed a finger up at the ceiling. "Do you know what's on my bedroom wall, Donny?"
He shook his head.
"A 1931 Winchester rifle."
"No kidding." He was beginning to get the picture.
Shapiro went on. "Contrary to my boys' opinions, I think Ruth will do right by you. You're from a good family and I haven't a qualm against your father. So I'm only going to say this once." Shapiro cleared his throat and looked Donny straight in the eye. His voice was pert and to the point.
"If you ever raise your hand against my daughter…if you do anything to make her cry or regret marrying you then I'll blow your brains out." He set his glass down on the coffee table with a decisive CLINK. "Am I clear, Donny Donowitz?"
He watched a vein in Donny's temple throb madly but the young man's expression was unreadable. "Crystal," he answered crisply before raising his glass to Mr. Shapiro.
"L'Chaim," Donny announced before tipping back his head and emptying the contents down his throat.
A-A-A
ONE HOUR LATER:
Donny was surprised to find Ruth was still waiting for him back at the diner. She had removed her apron and dusted the flour stains off her pleated gray skirt. Her hair was also out of a braid and fell to her shoulders in soft brown waves. It was a bit odd seeing Ruth out of her work clothes and reading at a booth instead of standing poised behind the counter.
Ruth glanced up from her Charles Dickens novel and gestured to a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun on the counter. Donny didn't need to be told twice and he took a seat, helping himself to the bun by ripping it in half and dunking it into the coffee. Ruth watched him shove the spongy substance into his mouth and chew with fierce resolution as the gears whirled madly in his head.
"Well, how did it go?" Ruth dared to ask him.
Donny's response was a glare out of big defiant dark eyes that blazed with wrath.
Ruth resisted the urge to look amused. "That bad, huh?"
"Your brothers hate my guts and your dad wants to kill me," Donny said at last through a full mouth of bun. "Thanks for the warning."
Half a smile had tweaked its way into the corner of Ruth's mouth. "It's their way of saying you're better than my last suitor. They're just too proud to admit it."
This comment was a salve on Donny's wounded ego but he didn't dare show gratitude just yet.
"Humph." Donny took another gulp of coffee. "You Shapiros got a funny way of showin' respect for new family. I thought maybe Goldstein and her yakkin' tongue got to your brothers first."
Ruth's easy expression cooled down. "Some of the women were talking earlier on," she replied as-a-matter-of-fact.
"Aw, hell no!" Donny groaned. "Don't tell me ya got their jabberin' words stuck in your head too!"
He put down the coffee cup and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. "Thought you could do better'n listening to those fat chickens cluck around all day."
"I don't know what to believe," she insisted. "All I've heard is about you being seen behind the movie theater with a tall blonde from downtown." She cocked her head to one side. "Would you at least tell me your side of the story?"
She watched him rise to his feet, his shadow looming heavily over her petite five-foot-three frame. Donny wagged a finger in her face.
"Lemme get one thing straight through that pin-pricked Shapiro brain of yours: I didn't screw that shikshe. That's the friggin' truth."
Their conversation was cut off by the sound of a motor humming outside the diner. Ruth's jaw nearly hit the ground when the black limousine came into her vision from behind the window glass. A chauffeur stepped out of the front seat. He wore a maroon uniform with gold piping and a matching cap.
The neighbors are going to have a field day about this, Ruth predicted. Nobody on this side of the city had a car like that, let alone a hired hand to drive it around for you.
The chauffeur opened up the passenger's door and out came two legs in nylons and white leather pumps. Donny and Ruth were stunned as an elegant woman stepped out of the car and walked into the diner. The bell overhead jingled merrily to acknowledge her presence.
The newcomer was almost as tall as Donny but those legs could have gone on forever down to Miami. Pale yellow curls were swept back from a face of delicate striking features. The lips were full-pouting and painted bright red; the eyes fringed with lacy lashes. She wore a tailored suit of gray silk and had a white leather purse tucked under one arm. Kid gloves with pearl buttons and a jaunty white straw hat completed the picture.
Ruth was too distracted to even notice Donny's response to the woman because she was so preoccupied in starring at her. Then the newcomer fixed large blue eyes on Ruth.
"Pardon me. Are you Miss Shapiro?" she asked politely. Her voice was soft and slightly melancholy.
Self-conscience in her woork clothes, Ruth could do little else but clear her throat and smooth down her hair. "Yes I am. Can I help you?"
The woman walked right up to her and took Ruth's well-worked hands into her gloved ones. "I'm so glad to finally meet you. I'm Clara Des Moines and I'm looking for Donny. This was the only place I could try to reach him without..."
The woman lifted her head up to see Donny leaning casually against the counter with both hands in his pockets. He seemed neither surprised or overly enthusiastic about her presence. "Hey," he said with a wave of his hand. "You doin' all right, Clara?"
Ruth only hoped the smile on Clara's face was not a gesture of flirting because the sight of this muse ogling her man-to-be was making the Shapiro sensibleness within Ruth crawl up the walls with jealousy. She watched Clara cross the floor towards Donny.
"I had to see you one last time before leaving town. I wanted to thank you for treating me like a real person." Clara's voice quivered with uncertainty while she fumbled in her purse for a handkerchief.
"Hey, hey," Donny had shushed her in a voice that was surprisingly low and gentle. "You're gonna be fine, Clara. You're tougher than your folks say you are. Jest remember what I told you, okay? Gotta keep your chin up."
She sniffled and gently dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. "Yes, of course. But there must be something I can do for you." She searched in her purse for something else and extracted what looked like an envelope. But Donny just laid his big palm over Clara's gloved hand before she could offer it to him.
"Nah," he shook his head quickly. "Don't let anyone every say Donowitz couldn't stand on his own two feet making a good living."
"But you could use it," Jessica insisted.
"I'm gonna be workin' good pay at Whitmore's Shipping next month so don't worry 'bout me. And besides," Donny glanced over Clara's head to look back at Ruth. "I've already got what I need."
"Of course." Clara nodded and consented by putting the envelope back into her purse. "Bless you both." Much to Donny and Ruth's surprise, her gloved hand reached up to the stubbly face of the barber's son and she bent close enough to bestow a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Donny did not react with great enthusiasm. He had to put both hands on Jessica's arms and push her back long enough to look her in the eye. "Watch it Clara," he cautioned her. "Guys like me could get pounded for lettin' girls like you do that."
She studied his face quizzically. "Why?"
Donny shrugged. "That's the way the world runs, sweetheart. Life ain't always fair. But that's why God gave us fists, right?" He gave her a confident grin and held up one of his balled-up hands for demonstration.
Clara nodded and at last the dewdrop tears filled up her eyes but came no further. She gulped hard to compose herself before her eyes overflowed and the tears would run down her pearly face. In a final gesture her fingertips touched Donny's face before turning back to the awestruck Ruth Shapiro.
"You're a very lucky girl," she said at last. "Congratulations on your engagement".
With a wistful glance over her shoulder, the lithe figure of Miss Des Moines walked out the door, high-heels clicking gently against the tiles. Donowitz and Shapiro watched the chauffeur help Clara back into the limousine. There was the roar of an engine, the puff of exhaust fumes, and the car rolled down the street before turning right and vanishing out of focus.
The clock overhead ticked five times before Donny finally spoke again.
"Her ma won't let Clara eat more than four bites at a meal. And her Pa's tryin' to get her married to some millionaire out west." He shifted from one foot to another restlessly. "Some life. No wonder she was so fruckin' miserable when I found her behind the theater."
He glanced down at Ruth who, judging by the clarity in her hazel eyes, just had the last bit of the mental jigsaw puzzle snapped into place. She didn't need to ask Donny to retell the story but she could already imagine the scenario in her head: The beautiful Clara Des Moines, trapped in an arranged marriage of business and convenience, had been dropped off by her chauffeur and was sobbing behind Johnson's cinema the same night Donny and his pals were going to see the Marx Brothers in Room Service.
Shusterman, upon overhearing the two of them in the alleyway, had rashly come to the conclusion that Donny had stumbled across the winsome Clara and was taking advantage of her breasts.
In truth, the maiden of the ivory tower only had been sobbing into his shoulder for a moment of human support and compassion. She unexpectedly but gratefully received it from the big Jewish bat-swinger of Sy's Barbershop. Brash, headstrong, and mouthy—yes—but Donny could be surprisingly decent and maybe even chivalrous when he decided to act like a mentsch.
"I owe you an apology," Ruth said at last with reddened ears.
"For what?"
"For letting Mrs. Klein's words get to my head. I took one look at Clara and wondered how I could hold onto a guy like you after you've met a woman like that."
Now it was Donny's turn to grin with interest. "What kind of a woman d'ya mean?"
"You know," Ruth gestured to the door. "The kind that turns heads everywhere she goes."
"Aw, c'mon Ruth." He actually laughed heartily for the first time all day. "Never thought a Shapiro'd be jealous. Did ya even see her hands? A woman who can't even shake a finger in her folks' faces ain't the kind of woman I could put up with."
"And you could put up with this?" Ruth spread out all ten of her stubborn short-nailed fingers for Donny to see.
He nodded approvingly. "Sure can. So long as you can make me another cuppa coffee like this then you'll always hit a home run, Baby Ruth."
"Baby Ruth?" she repeated.
"Yeah. My Baby Ruth." He took two wide steps towards Ruth and slipped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her securely to his chest. "Now how's about us celebratin' with Mr. Manishevitz by getting a bottle of wine outta the cellar?"
He watched her face glow pink with pride and a fresh dimple appeared in one cheek. "I think that's the best idea you've had all day," Ruth said at last with great satisfaction.
A-A-A
Glossary:
Chutzpah — Nerve or insolence
Nudnick – Pest
Shikshe - Gentile girl
Sukkah - An outdoor booth covered with branches built for the holiday of Sukkot
L'Chaim - "To life"
Mentsch - A good man